Glasgow Writers: Brian Hamill
A Special Report by Brian Hamill, September 2013 – A new wee short piece written in Scots
At the moment Brian Hamill’s world is full of promise. The young writer, originally from Airdrie and now living in Glasgow, was one the winners of the 2012 Scottish Book Trust annual New Writers Awards. Currently he is waiting to be allocated a professional mentor as part of the prize.
He’s also excited about how the collection of short stories he’s been working on is shaping up and hopes to finish this soon. In addition, Brian has written a novella called The Revellers, illustrated by his talented friend Steven Learmonth. Brian has had stories published in various publications, including New Writing Scotland 30, Shorelines and the New Voices Press Anthology 2012. His work was also included in the anthology Tip Tap Flat, which was published in 2012 and edited by Louise Welsh.
Brian started writing in 2007, when after gaining a degree in English Literature from the University of Strathclyde, he signed up for Creative Writing evening classes at the University of Glasgow DACE. He has continued these classes every year since, and firmly believes that any successes he has had so far have grown from the collective wisdom and efforts of that class and, in particular, the tutor Alan McMunnigall.
Brian is generous in his praise of many writers and has drawn inspiration from the great Scottish modern writers such as Tom Leonard and James Kelman, describing their work as ‘wonderful’. Other contemporary writers he admires include Jackie Kay and Bernard MacLaverty.
We had a great natter about writers and writing over a cappuccino in Tinderbox on Byres Road, when Brian told me that his output as a writer is fairly slow as he doesn’t get as much time to write as he would like. However, he is never short of ideas and can always find ‘meaningful things to write about’. He is a firm believer that real life is more interesting than fantasy and so his material comes from life, from the people he knows and the conversations he has, or overhears.
Much of Brian’s work is written in his own attempt to represent the Scots language phonetically. This is a style which comes naturally to him and he explained how he ‘wants his narrator to be part of the world that his characters inhabit.’
An avid reader, he has a particular love of short stories, including a lot of older collections. Among his favourite authors are Tobias Wolff, Albert Camus, Raymond Carver, Agnes Owens, Kelman, John Cheever, and, one of my own favourites, Katherine Mansfield. He is quick to point out that his appreciation of many of these writers was gained through works studied at his writing class.
Now he is keen to work with his new mentor via the Scottish Book Trust’s scheme. I can imagine that whoever it is will appreciate Brian’s enthusiasm, commitment and knowledge – there’s every chance they will find the partnership of mutual benefit. (Little update: Brian was happy to have Alan Warner assigned as his mentor).
Extract from Brian Hamill’s writing
He stumbled and tripped on a gorse bush, then grinned in the darkness. He’d worn his oldest overcoat and a bunnet and had the half-bottle hangin out the front pocket. If anybody seen him they’d think he was just some old homeless looking for shelter tae skull his drink. But they wouldn’t know that he?d a kitchen knife concealed on the inside, so once he saw something happening he?d be able to keep the bastard in line till the polis got there.
The rain had made the hat damp and it sat heavily over his ears. The backs of the flats were close enough that he could see into the rooms, the bedrooms and bathrooms of the young folk, and one or two of them moving around inside. But he was sure he was far enough away that no-one could pick him out, as long as he settled down and didn’t make any sudden movements. He unscrewed the bottle and took a sip, then found a fairly dry spot at the foot of a big oak tree and planted his back against it. The branches swayed up above, there must have been a wind passing up there, but Raeburn was comfortable, crouched against the trunk, watching and waiting. He’d take another sip in a wee while.
Time passed. Raeburn thought that it wasn’t too bad, being out in the elements at night. The air was bracing. There was one main path into the student halls from this direction, and he’d positioned himself cleverly so he could see it up until it got quite close to the residence, then he’d have to turn the other way to watch any entrances or exits. This meant he’d be looking over his shoulder, which, with the dark coat and hat on and him crouched over, must have made him impossible to see. A boulder, or a bush, that’s what he’d look like from away over there. He laughed to himself. A few nights of this and he’d catch the fucker for sure.
Brian Hamill, 2013.
Brian Hamill is Submissions Editor for thi wurd fiction magazine.
Pat Byrne, February, 2013
This section: Books, Talks, Poetry and Creative Writing Events, writers, Writing
- David MacLennan
- Maggie Graham
- Brian Hamill
- Paul McCafferty
- Louise Welsh
- Dave Anderson
- Ellen McAteer
- Frankie Gault
- Elaine Reid
- Allan Wilson
- Leela Soma
- John Hamilton May
- Denise Mina
- John Dingwall
- Paul McQuade
- Creative Conversations: Anuradha Roy
- Creative Activism: 20th Anniversary of Scotland’s Repeal of Section 28
- Cambridge Literary Festival – Winter Festival Online
- Reunion – a poem by Rizwan Akhtar
- Big Book Week Scotland Quiz 2020
- P.M. Freestone at Creative Conversations
- Book Week Scotland 2020
- Real Bread Bakers – Screening and Discussion
- Book Week Scotland 2020: Glasgow Libraries
- Creative Conversations: Sandy NicDhòmhnaill Jones
- I Like Your Hat – book launch with Magi Gibson
- Scottish Writers Centre: Double Book Launch Leela Soma and Allan Martin
- Poetry, Reading and Discussion
- Creative Conversations, University of Glasgow
- Queerness in 1980s Glasgow – Douglas Stuart
- Bloody Scotland: Michael Connelly and Ian Rankin
- New World, New Beginnings – Poetry Event Online
- Creative Conversations: Peter May
- Creative Conversations: Elizabeth Reeder
- Remembering Alasdair Gray / Paradise